Freedom Earned
by numbandalone
Summary: A strange new girl and her US Marshall bodyguard have taken up residence in the NCIS OSP boat shed and as usual Hetty isn't very forth coming with details. With the threat of a chemical terrorist attack on US soil can the team over come and save the day or have the secrets finally become too much to ignore?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

I got the call today. She saved my life, twice, in Moscow so I don't really have a choice. She doesn't seem too worried about my past interfering with the job. Hopefully she's right, I mean I grew up here, got arrested here more times than I'd like to admit, but L.A. was never really my home, and I haven't been there for more than a lay-over since I was sixteen.

But I still can't shake this nagging feeling that she isn't being completely honest with me.

But that's Hetty for you, she's got her next twelve moves planned out knowing full well what you'll do. So time to go back to L.A. Back to Hetty's watchful eye. Back but not as myself. The last person who discovered my true identity died before they could tell anyone, myself included.


	2. The Feel of Cold Steel

**The Feel of Cold Steel**

"Ladies and gentlemen we are making our final descent into LAX, please fasten your seatbelts and make sure all trays are in their upright and locked position. Thank you for flying American Airways," the pilots voice chimed in over the usual din of airplane chatter, snores, and crying babies.

I had not undone my belt nor had I used my tray so I continued on as I had been for the last fourish hours since we had boarded in Chicago, hands folded in my lap, stuffed under the blanket so as not to bring attention to my current situation, staring blankly out of the window. I had never expected Hetty to fly me to L.A. by myself but the feel of the cold, metal handcuffs against my skin again after so many years was starting to bother me. I had hoped, even prayed, foolishly, that maybe after all of these years all of the work I had done to redeem myself would have landed me a higher level of treatment, but of course once a criminal always a criminal, even one turned federal agent, well ish.

"We will wait until everyone else has cleared the plane, then and only then are you to stand up, I will undo your belt for you," my handler said without looking at me. This wasn't our first rodeo and it was surely not to be our last. I nodded, not that I needed to listen to know what to do. I had helped to write the handbook, that plus an eidetic memory left me with no gaps in my understanding of protocol. But he knew that, he was just nervous, any time we traveled by plane he got nervous to the point of paranoia and nausea. I had found it best to just go along with it when he was like this. Besides I never know when he'll be reassigned and as far as NSA/CIA/FBI/DHS and MOUSE goes Rick the Marshall is pretty cool. When we drive he has cool tunes, when we take the train he gives me a little more leeway as far as he lets me out of our car while we are traveling, although never unescorted, his only down side is the flying thing.

We landed and the people around us hustled around getting their bags from the overhead compartments and under their seats before slowly filing off the plane. With all of the traveling my job had me do I had quickly become an expert on profiling people on planes, trains, and in highway rest stops. The young couple three rows in front of us struggled to hang on to all of their things as well as their three children under the age of five, vacations should be restful yet the parents look like they are ready to scream; the elderly couple who had been sitting directly in front of me, holding hands the whole flight while reading separate books/newspapers shuffled slowly off the plane smiling at everyone, from the few words they exchanged they are either here to attend a wedding or meet a great-grandchild; the business man in the black suit looked irritated as he pulled out his smartphone and started going through emails or texts, I could tell from the tension in his shoulders whatever he had come to L.A. for it wasn't rainbows and puppy dogs.

Finally the last person got off the plane and Rick stood up, triple checking that we were alone before taking the blanket off my lap and undoing my belt. I slowly stood up; twitchy Rick doesn't do well with sudden movements. Before we started moving toward the door he undid my handcuffs, I gently rubbed my wrists, they were bright red and rubbed raw from the metal. Security greeted us in the walkway to unlock the door to the stairs that led down to the tarmac. We reached the bottom as a black, standard issue U.S. Government, bullet proof, tinted windows, armored Suburban pulled up, and an agent in a suit climbed out and opened the back door for me. Rick helped me up and into the vehicle before climbing in himself and slamming the door shut.

"U.S. Marshall Richard Francis, personnel transfer," Rick said following protocol with my new cover.

"Agents Calloway and Green of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, welcome to L.A." the man behind the wheel said as he put the car into drive and took off.

"So where exactly are we going?" Rick asked after twenty-five minutes, he was used to Chicago, fifteen minutes to any destination we might have.

"Los Angeles NCIS is an OSP branch which means no one but agents have clearance to headquarters," Green the female agent in the front said not turning around. "We're taking you to the safe house which doubles as interrogation. There are rooms for you to stay in and a direct feed into ops."

We finally pulled into a parking lot and stopped. I waited as always, nine out of ten times the door next to me had the child lock on and the other one time I didn't bother trying because Rick was already jumpy.

Agents Calloway and Green got out of the front seat and Rick gave me a look. Not a 'don't try anything' look, I knew that one too well. More of a 'are you sure' look. I nodded, I hadn't seen Hetty since Russia seven years ago but I still trusted her with my life. If she called I wasn't about to sit by and not help, I owed her more than my life. But Rick had never met her, how was he supposed to know, thinking about the two of them meeting make me smile. Over the last three years of almost constant protection and observation Rick had become a mix between a father and an overly protective brother to me. He was, for all intents and purposes, my family, and I his, with as much as I moved around and the 24/7 supervision I needed he rarely got time off, and when he did it wasn't long enough for family of any kind; besides the level of clearance needed to know my identity and secrets attracted loners with no family.

He opened his door and climbed out checking all around him before reaching back into the car and giving me his hand. I took it and counted, his blood pressure was down, which was a good thing for everyone, it would be easier to become the fake version of me if he wasn't all tense. I hopped down from the Suburban and Rick squeezed my hand before releasing it.

"So you ready Any?" he asked as we reached the doors.

"Too late to say 'no' now isn't it?" I said jokingly.

"Not at all, we can be back in Chicago for dinner and the Bears game," he said slightly hopeful.

"Rick, I would never stand up Hetty, and if you don't want her to take you down a few pegs I would suggest you do the same," I said suddenly serious.

The smile dropped from his face, I rarely if ever spoke this seriously, mine was more the sarcastic remarks personality.

Agents Calloway and Green were already inside talking to someone I couldn't see in hushed tones.

"Who the hell is this? I mean Hetty brought them in, but seriously think about it, who needs so much protection?" a voice asked.

"Doesn't really matter, Hetty trusts them, that's enough for me," a second voice responded before I turned the corner and everyone went silent.

Besides the two agents from the Suburban three people sat around a table, one female, two male. A quick scan told me who their obvious leader was, the man sitting facing me, short hair, light stubble, piercing ice blue eyes, early to mid-forties, from the brief descriptions Hetty had given me I figured he must be Callen. He exchanged a glance with the large man across the table, the only black male in the room it was safe to assume this was Sam Hanna. As the only female agent on the unit Kensi Blye was another quick connection. That just left the last member of their unit, LAPD Liaison Detective Marty Deeks.

"Someone may want to check in on the soap situation, I think I may have used the last of it," a voice said moving down the stairs and into sight. "Oh oops, didn't realize we had company," he said smiling crookedly.

Blonde shaggy hair, blue eyes, dopey grin, it had to be Marty Deeks, he was the only one in the room, myself excluded, who didn't scream federal agent with their behavior and body language.

"Oh, am I supposed to introduce myself or something?" Deeks asked pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Don't worry Deeks, they just got here," Kensi said rolling her eyes at her partner.

Callen stood up, "Welcome, we're"

"Agents Callen," I finished his sentence. "Hanna, Blye, and Detective Marty Deeks," I said looking at each person as I said their name.

Again no one spoke but just looked at me.

"Um yeah, Hetty must have sent you a file?" he asked.

"No, just names and position in the unit," I answered honestly.

"Oh, well, do you want to sit down?" Callen asked indicating the couch in the corner.

"We'll I can't answer for Rick but I got enough sitting on the plane to last for a day or two," I said firmly still taking in my surroundings. I could smell the salt water; as much as I had grown to love Lake Michigan nothing would replace that smell.

"Okay, well for the first time in a long time I'm afraid to say you're ahead of us. Hetty may have briefed you but none of us were even given a name," Callen said.

I swallowed, this was the easy part, usually, but again usually I wasn't standing in the middle of a crowd of federal agents, and a cop, usually it was just other hackers, other social outcasts.

"If you feel the need call her by her name, its Jane," Rick said speaking up after a few seconds and my mouth hadn't opened. I looked at him apologetically and thankfully.

"And you are?" Callen asked turning his attention to Rick for the first time since we had entered the boat house.

"Richard Francis U.S. Marshall. Jane here is in my protective custody," he said still not moving. "When will we be meeting with Henrietta Lange?" he asked.

The television on the wall blinked to life from the NCIS logo to find Hetty and a younger man sitting in a room filled with computers. "Right now Marshall Francis," Hetty said, the ever present condescension filling her voice. "Ahh Jane dear," she said turning her attention to me. "I trust your trip was smooth?" she asked the smile on her face genuine.

"Of course Hetty, as smooth as flying coach can be," I said glancing over to Rick who still stood stiffly at the hallway opening.

"Agents Calloway, Green?" Hetty asked drawing our two drivers back toward the group. "Thank you for the special delivery, you can return to whatever you were working on before."

The two agents nodded and left, slipping past Rick in the doorway before we heard the door open and close.

"Now, down to business. The team will brief you in full Jane, but a basic outline, messages have been intercepted that lead us to believe Los Angeles may be the target of a chemical terrorist attack. The only problem is that no one has been able to lock down the location of the sender or the receiver. And to make matters worse there are layers and layers of encryptions on each of the messages. Our technical analysts have been working round the clock but they have yet to break through even the first layer of encryption on anything more concrete than vague threats. So we need you dear, and your lightning quick fingers and sharp mind. It's been seven years since I've witnessed it myself but from what I hear through the grape vine you have only improved your skills since teaming up with the Joint Task Force. I am as always only a phone call away everyone. As always I leave you in Mr. Beale's hands."

Hetty started to turn and walk away but turned back toward camera.

"תגידו לי, אתה עדיין שולט?" she said shooting me a look.

"זה כבר יותר מדי זמן" I said quietly looking Hetty in the eyes.

"ברור שכן," she said before leaving the Ops center.

No one said anything for a minute or so until I turned around and walked over to the table. Ignoring what I had said earlier I sat down in an empty chair.

"So, she said you have more details?" I asked not looking at anyone specifically.

We sat discussing the details for about twenty minutes. NCIS had become involved when three petty officers had been killed in the exact same way and their credentials, uniforms, and keys had all been taken. The only connection between the three were they all worked in the same building that houses a chemical warfare laboratory. Upon examining the third petty officer's laptop Eric had come across an encrypted file and upon trying to hack in had tripped a back door program that self-destructed the hard drive wiping all memory without the slightest chance of recovering any of the data.

Sam's phone rang and he left the main room to answer it. Callen had finally settled down but he still hadn't taken his eyes off of me, and Kensi looked just as tense as when I had walked in. Deeks was the only one not on hyper alert as he drank his coffee on the sofa while doing things on his phone.

"You know, Nell and I have been working on these files for days, what qualifies you to be called in by Hetty?" Eric said after a few moments of silence. "Obviously Hetty wouldn't have called you in unless she was sure you could come through."

I looked at him for a minute, he had nice eyes, eyes that had seen a lot but only through a camera lens projected onto a computer monitor.

"You know who 'cOmrade' was?" I asked.

"Of course, who doesn't?" Eric asked; all of the faces around me looked blank.

"Who do you think tracked him down?" I said raising an eyebrow. "It's nice to finally put a face to the name Beale, Eric NCIS Data Analyst," I added not able to help myself, he was exactly how I had pictured him.

Eric looked confused for about thirty seconds before his eyes grew huge and he shouted out a quick, 'call me if you need me!' and the line went dead leaving the screen with the NCIS logo once more.

"So, who has a computer I can use?" I asked looking to each of the people in the room.

Sam reentered putting his phone back in his pocket, "G, that was Nell, she got a hit on Petty Officer Grant's roommate. Venice Beach, hasn't moved in the last half-hour."

"Alright, Kensi and Sam with me, Deeks you can stay here with Marshall Francis and," he paused for a split second bringing his eyes back to me, "Jane. We'll call when we've got him," Callen said standing up and moving toward the door. The three agents quickly left, collecting their guns first, and it was once more silent in the boat shed.

"We were told there was a room for us?" Rick said turning to Deeks.

"Oh yeah, well rooms," he said his eyes finally off his phones screen and bouncing back and forth across the room to our faces. "The rooms only have one bed each so you'll be in separate rooms. Follow me," he said standing up and crossing to the stairs. Rick went first as always and I followed very closely, from what I could tell Deeks was bound to irritate Rick.

"You have your choice between rooms A and B, both beautifully decorated and lit with standard issue prison grade cots, fluorescent bulbs, and in room toilets. Ladies first?" Deeks said donning a ridiculous accent.

"A," Rick and I said at the same time.

"Okay," Deeks said giving us both weird looks. "What are you like those annoying twins who finish each other's sentences?" he asked.

"Standard protocol," Rick said staring blankly at Deeks.

"Um, standard for who exactly? Because I've never heard this protocol, and believe me I've heard them all, hazard of working for Hetty," he said smiling and rubbing his hands together.

"Room B is closer to the stairs, if this location is compromised and someone comes up the stairs I need to be between Jane and the assailant in order to give her time to escape to a different location. I believe the protocol would be covered by my general description," Rick said serious the whole time.

"And that is what exactly?" Deeks asked crossing his arms.

"Protection," Rick answered his eyes darting to me and back to Deeks.

"Protection for whom?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No, not really, please spell it out for me."

"Everyone," Rick said not twitching a muscle, this definitely made up for his bad traits, no matter what stress or pressure Rick was under (besides flying) he never lost sight of his objective.

Deeks smiled tightly, "I'll see what I can do about a computer for you Ma'am," he said looking to me no longer registering Rick as even present.

"Thank you Detective," I said side stepping Rick and opening the door to the room further down the hall.

"And I'm sorry about the living conditions," he said earnestly.

"It's alright," I said looking around the room. "I've definitely had much worse."

"Is there is anything else I can get you?" he asked.

"No clue if it's feasible, but a yoga mat, a chess board, and a copy of the Grimm's Mӓrchen, along with the laptop, mouse, headset, and a ton of coffee, that'd be great," I said stepping into the room and looking back to see Deek's face before nodding to Rick and closing the door.

I heard a muted and short conversation between the two men before footsteps going downstairs and the door down the hall opened but never close, again standard protocol.

I threw the small bag I had packed on the bed before inspecting every inch of the room. Exactly what I would expect of a detention cell, in the corner a camera with a blinking red light, obviously they were still filming, nothing I wasn't used to. I rolled my neck around relieving the tension from the flight, with Rick clenching the arm rest the whole way. I looked up at the camera again, it was more than just the normal feeling of being recorded every second of everyday, someone was watching the feed.


	3. Suspicions

**Suspicions **

She turned toward the bed and pulled out a clean shirt before pulling the one she currently wore up revealing her lower back flashing the beginnings of a tattoo before I could switch off the feed. The look on her face when she had stared down the camera, it was like she knew I was watching.

I entered Eric's extension and the screen filled with ops once more.

"Oh, um, hey, what's up Deeks?" Eric asked distracted and slightly disheveled.

"We need a laptop with the encrypted files brought over here to the boat shed and," I stopped for a second, "Is Hetty there?" I finally asked after she hadn't popped up like she usually did before I could even utter her name.

"No, when she finished briefing all of you she left, no one's seen or heard from her since then. Why, what's up?"

"What's up? I should be asking you that, you look like you haven't slept in days, you've been pulling out your hair, and way over the lethal dose of caffeine. Do you remember the last time you ODed?" I asked trying to brush away his question with humor.

"Sorry it's just, this girl," he started.

"Yeah, I know," I said staring over toward the stairwell.

"It's just, earlier, before I hung up, she mentioned something," Eric said furiously typing away.

"Oh yeah I remember, something about a comrade or something," I said only half paying attention to the conversation.

"Not a comrade, cOmrade, one of the biggest, if not the biggest, hacker in the last ten years. As a hacker for the good guys I followed the case like,"

"A crazy person?" I asked smiling.

Eric rolled his eyes, "They had nothing on this guy for two years and then bam out of nowhere this top secret Joint Task Force catches him. There were rumors, whispers, that the government had some M4573R/H4X00R working for them to track fellow hackers."

"I'm sorry, what the hell is a M4573R/H-bunch of numbers-R? I don't speak the geek," I said making a face.

Eric sighed, "Master Hacker, someone who's either gotten into trouble with the government (although I'm not limiting it to one government) and has flipped to work as an asset instead of doing prison time. There's this, well an urban legend among hackers, this one hacker, just them and a computer, not even an impressive computer, a Packard Bell Legend 406CD 1994 which is about the worst PC ever created, but not the point," Eric said ask I cleared my throat. "So the story goes this hacker was able to make their way into, through, and back out of the Pentagon, FBI, CIA, and British SIS systems before anyone even knew they had been hacked. Then nothing for over a year. Until the same hacking signature pops back up in Russia in 1996, the same time that a certain operative that we all know and love, if not slightly fear will come for us one night with a letter opener, is carrying out an assignment in Russia. And then the hacker is never heard from again."

"And you think Jane is this Master Hacker," I finished.

"I didn't, not until she mentioned cOmrade, but come on, no one ever expects MHs to be female, it's a largely male dominated crowd, it's like if you found out Kobe Bryant was actually a woman," Eric said. My eyes got huge, "Yeah, so now that you know how big a deal this is. I've been doing my best, hacking my hardest, but every time I get close I hit a dead end. Her file is protected and encrypted by every branch of our government, England's government, Germany, and Israel. It could take me years and I still wouldn't have even scratched the surface. Especially if she wrote the encryptions herself. Oh god, I hadn't even thought of that until now," Eric looked like he was going to be sick. "Anyway, do you need anything Deeks?" Eric asked finally snapping back to his normal state of mind.

"Just the laptop, oh and a chess board?" I said remembering her list of items. I had a yoga mat she could borrow if need be. I had no clue what book she was referring to. "The works for the laptop, headset, and external mouse Eric."

"Alright, it'll be over soon," Eric said punching a button and making the screen go blank.

I pulled up the security feed from the rooms upstairs again to find Rich sitting in the doorway to his room facing the stairs, and Jane was sprawled across her bed in a completely different outfit than she had arrived in. I watched her for a minute before switching the feed to cycle and crossing over to the couch and sitting back down.

I pulled my phone back out, one new text. I opened it, and discovered I was right. I knew I had seen her before, a long time ago, back when I had been a court appointed attorney when a girl that had been brought in. I wasn't on the case but it had been a big deal. I couldn't remember any of the details that had spread around the office but I knew I would never forget her face. Through everything she had never blinked, never cried a tear, never shown any sign that she knew what was happening. At twelve years old she was one of the youngest kids who I had ever seen in the station, but she didn't look scared, didn't even looked vaguely interested. Her parents had been murdered and all she cared about was if she would go into foster care or to an orphanage.

The feed looped back around to Jane's room. She stared blankly at the wall, that same expression she had worn nearly fifteen years ago.

I pulled my phone back out and sent a quick text to my best connection at the station.


	4. We're All Screwed

**"We're all screwed" **

"So which branch do you think is lending us this Jane girl?" Sam asked.

"Who knows. CIA, FBI, DHS, all of them, take your pick. If she's as good as Hetty seems to think she is then there's no telling who she works for. Hell I don't think she's even actually an employee," I said looking around as Sam turned the corner and parked along the board walk.

"What do you mean G?"

"I mean, since when do agencies send U.S. Marshalls with employees, I don't care how great of an asset she is, U.S. Marshalls only escort prisoners and witnesses in criminal trials, and I'm doubting she's got many enemies willing to track her down and kill her."

"You think Hetty has us working with a prisoner? More importantly you think that girl is a criminal?" Sam asked laughing as he rolled down the windows of the Challenger and we both scoped out the boardwalk.

"Sam you've been in this job long enough, tell me you don't think anything weird is going on, tell me there is no way that girl is anything but an analyst,"

"And you'll what, call me a liar?"

"No, I was going to say demand a psych eval," I said making my partner smile.

"I admit there's something weird, Hetty isn't telling us everything, but since when does Hetty ever tell us everything? Besides, it's not like this really affects anything. We finish this case, save the world like we always do, and this girl and her protection go back to where ever the heck they're from. Simple as that."

"I wish I could believe that Sam, I really do. But something about how Hetty's acting makes me think this isn't such a short lived thing. She's reminding me of when Deeks first came around."

Kensi parked her car and walked over to us.

"So where is this guy?" she asked squatting down next to Sam's car.

"What are you in a hurry to get back to the boat shed, and Deeks?" Sam asked smirking as Kensi got flustered.

"Just point him out, I can bring him in easier than you two. My god, do either of you even know how to blend into a crowd?" Kensi said her temper flaring.

"Claws back in Kens, we're all on the same team remember?" I said holding my hands up. "Alright, you go in, I'll follow to set your cover," I said looking around. "Once I've gotten the brush off I'll head over to the newspaper stand, Sam will be over further. If you can get him off the boardwalk, we don't know to what extent this guys involved. We'll be right behind you for back up. Oh and Kensi?" I said as she started to walk away. "Try not to shoot the guy this time if he starts to get too comfortable with you?" I smiled up at her.

She stood up, rolled her eyes, turned, and walked away.

"Now that girl, if you tried to tell me you thought Kensi used to be a criminal I might buy that," Sam said laughing.

I watched after Kensi as she walked across the boardwalk looking around frantically already in character.

I sighed, "If Kensi ever went to the dark side we'd all be screwed," I said opening the car door and climbing out.


	5. Reminiscence

**Reminiscence **

I was sure they had all forgotten about me when two hours later I was still lying on the cot in the detention cell upstairs and had no computer. I heard cars pull up outside and several doors shut before the door to the boat shed opened and I could hear the footsteps for four individuals in addition to Deeks.

"Don't tell me, he tried to run," Deek's voice said I could practically hear the smirk. "You never run from my partner, that is like the worst thing you can do. That's gonna be a hell of a mark dude."

"Come on," Sam said gruffly as three of the pairs of footsteps moved toward the other side of the boatshed, the room with the blinds closed, must be interrogation.

I could hear Rich pacing outside my room in the hall. After the plane ride he would be jumpy for the next few days, pacing helped but drove me crazy.

I moved so that I was facing the wall and my legs leaned against the wall, my feet just under the window ledge. I had definitely had worse as far as living arrangements go but in some ways this was worse. I felt like I was back in New Hampshire or even worse Lee.

When I had first come back I had been stuck in New Hampshire, it was a reasonable distance from Langley who had been responsible for bringing me in from Poland. But when I had begun to work for them they had transferred me, they made special arrangements for me to stay at USP Lee. As a male only prison it had taken quite a bit of shuffling and bureaucratic nonsense but eventually it was decided that they would close a wing for "renovation" and I was brought to my new home. A maximum security cell with multiple armed guards posted 24/7, covering as making sure there were not prison break attempts, but in reality they were all still sure I would run if the opportunity presented itself. I can't say I blamed them. But I won small, secret battles. I was only allowed computers when working on specific missions, and even then someone was looking over my back. Luckily for me, there was a reason they had to trust me, no one they brought in to supervise me was anywhere close to my level. I was able to send out one last contact to Hetty, the same way we had been contacting each other during my time in Poland. I had no clue if she ever received it until I was taken out of prison and put under 24/7 protective custody of first the CIA, then the NSA, then the FBI, and finally landing with the US Marshalls and Rich.

I hadn't even thought of it in weeks but then one of my systems put in place to notify me of incoming from certain sources was set off. A response to a classified ad in a small local paper in Michigan. 'Long time since I saw a bargain this good. Send me coordinates so I can see it for myself.' Hetty had found my ad for a Welsh translator, one of our jokes ever since Russia. I sent one more ad, this time asking for a Czech tutor for a Chicago computer science student named Jane Doe, but it would have to be online as the student had a fulltime body guard. Her response was straight forward, 'The Navy has always done right by me. Even a long time Criminal can pick it up. You should Investigate someone from the Service. And Chicago is far too cold, LA has much better weather.' Three weeks later I had requested a file on an Eric Beale from the Naval Criminal Investigation Service the Los Angeles branch. An accomplished hacker his record included several incidents I had even caught wind of in jail. His superior was listed as Henrietta Lange; I requested him for the task force I had been chosen to lead, hackers from different agencies working together to take down major threats to the US's national security. I knew the request would have to pass across Hetty's desk first, and my name on a list of skilled hackers would be irresistible for her. Eric flew into Chicago a week later to help with the task force's first assignment, I however was in the field undercover with Rich, I had all of the skills of a field agent and the a hacker so I was almost always the one to do firsthand infiltration, I could earn trust and do my job without being caught. I left an envelope for Eric though, it contained two pieces of paper. One had a ten digit satellite phone number the other an LAPD case number and two separate DHS file numbers, Hetty was the only person I trusted with the information, Eric was under the impression it was information about the task force. After that mission Hetty recused Eric's placement on the JTF and I didn't hear from her for nearly two years when out of the blue I finally got a call on my sat phone and suddenly I was back in LA.

I stared out of the window above my feet, lying this way I could see just a sliver of blue sky, maybe I was being paranoid, Rich really did rub off on me, but I couldn't help but think back to that day seven years ago when the Russians had first approached me. If it wasn't for that day, that meeting, none of this would have happened, at least not like this. The blue of the sky brought back her eyes as she looked up at me so trusting and gentle, but I shoved the thought from my head, I needed to check in on her, it had been weeks, but her safety was more important than my comfort or security. Maybe I could get some one on one time with Hetty, the floorboards in the hall squeaked again as Rich did another pass by in his never ending pacing, I laughed at the thought of slipping away from Rich here, I'd sooner get to own a personal computer.


	6. Russia was so Seven Years Ago

**Russia was so Seven Years Ago **

I pulled up to my house and put my Jag in park before climbing out and slowly making my way to the garage. I hadn't looked at the file in years, not since her communications had ended. The first year or so I figured she had just moved on, that she thought I had abandoned her there in Poland and was never coming back. And then the news had come in just two years ago when the Cyber-Crime Joint Task Force had tried to recruit Eric Beale. I had been sent a file with names, and one of them had stuck out. A Jane Doe working for the CIA, NSA, and DOD who was set to be the leader. I had sent Eric in as a part time analyst, only for the first project. I had to know if it was her. He wasn't there long enough to even met the girl in charge, he had been put in a room with three other hackers and Jane had been out in the field, but he had received a file with information in a familiar handwriting.

I opened the file labeled 'Jane Doe 384' to find the picture of Jane from the orphanage in Los Angeles when she was twelve. Even then she had looked haunted, maybe even a little hollow, but nothing on what I saw, or rather didn't see, behind her eyes in Russia. Living on the run will do that to a person. With no one to trust but her parents she had been shattered, although she hid it well, at age twelve when she had discovered her parents weren't really her parents. When I had come across her in Russia she had been completely and utterly broken beyond repair. I had been sent to put a stop to the leak of information, usually this type of mission ended with me putting a bullet into whatever resource our enemies had whether a computer, a person, or any other form of advantage they held. But when it had come time I couldn't do it. I had fought through two protective teams of Russians before I reached the girl and when I had she hadn't said anything, hadn't begged for her life, in fact I could see she was ready to die, but not in a martyr to the cause sort of way, just in a she had nothing to live for way.

Before anyone else from my team could get to us and complete the job for me I had moved the dead body of one of the Russians so he sat at the computer and had picked the chain around her ankle before rushing her from the room. I hid her and given her a few things she would need; money, directions, and an address for where to hide until I could get her safely out of the country. No one knew the target besides myself so it was easy to pass it off. But as my team began to leave and I saw she was not in the spot I had told her to hide I grew concerned.

Three days later I received word from a bellboy at a hotel on the other side of town that the room I had paid him to watch was occupied. When I arrived I had found a bloody mess, literally. I called another contact and passed the girl off as an informant. She had been patched up, four bullet wounds, it was the closest thing to a miracle that none had hit any major organs or arteries, and pumped full of pain killers leaving her almost comatose.

When she woke up four days later mine was the first face she saw. She didn't blink, she didn't try to escape, she just stared at me for five minutes before she spoke, "_Ты пришел, чтобы убить меня_?" where the first five words I had ever heard her speak.

"_Нет, я приношу жизнь не смерть," I had responded making her stare soften slightly._

"_Sie bist nicht Russischen?" she responded._

"_Nein, ich bin nicht Russischen noch Deutschen, câte limbi vorbești?" __I had asked sipping my third cup of tea of the day._

"_Nu de numărare engleza? Zece, dar numai șase fluent. A vi?" _

"_Dostatek. _אבל למה_?_נערה בגילך_, _זה לא נורמלי_."_

"_Arferol ar yw'r gair ffasiynol." _

"_You'll have to forgive me, but I do not speak,"_

"_Welsh," she said looking at me, trying to size me up. "So what do you want with me?"_

"_I want nothing but to know who you are."_

"_I thought I had run out of firsts," she said staring at me blankly, clearly she didn't believe me. "But I'm afraid you can't have that information."_

"_And may I ask why not?"_

"_Because I don't know who I am. No one does."_

I could hear a car pulling up outside the garage so I quickly shut the file and placed it back in the box before returning the box to its place.

"I was wondering how long it would take for one of these visits Mr. Callen," I said as he entered the garage having parked his Mercedes only feet from the open door.

"Well, we both know how I feel about outsiders. So, are you going to tell me, or do I need to have Eric go around your back?"

"Unfortunately there is nothing to know at this time. Although I am excited to see if anything new comes to light. Besides, you clearly haven't spoken to Mr. Beale yet, he's having a hard enough time trying to do just that on his own. But how goes the case?" I asked obviously changing the subject.

"Sam, Kensi, and I picked up Petty Officer Grant's roommate, so far he isn't talking. Looks like he doesn't know anything."

"So I guess the fate of your case lies in the hands of Ms. Doe." Callen raised his eyebrow, "Ms. Doe. You're telling me her name is Jane Doe?" he asked suspiciously.

"You've got to be kidding me. Talk about obvious."

"Not obvious, honest Mr. Callen. She has no name," I said. "Let me know how the case is going," I called back behind me before entering the house and leaving Callen standing in the middle of my garage completely confused.


	7. No Such Thing as Coincidence

No Such Thing as Coincidence

As soon as I finished one encryption then another popped up. I was growing more frustrated with each level of encryption and was nowhere to show for all of my hard work. I closed everything down and returned to what was right in front of me. 'Back to basics Beale' I thought to myself. If she was as prolific as Hetty thought and she proclaimed herself to be there had to be mention of her somewhere. Some file that hadn't been fully redacted, some post on a secure hacker sight that would give me a hint, some mention of her time in Russia or the case concerning cOmrade.

"Eric, are you okay?" Nell asked entering ops, she had been at the boat shed delivering the laptop. "You look like crap. Please god tell me you didn't OD on caffeine again," she begged.

"No, why is that everyone's first thought?" I demanded tired and stressed. "I'm," I stopped and looked around before lowering my voice and leaning in, "I'm trying to find out who this girl is."

"Wow, she must be something special to get Eric Beale this worked up, I've never seen you this smitten," Nell said turning to her computer and logging back in.

"Smitten?" I asked shocked. "I'm not smitten, not by this girl at least," I said the voice that made me say stupid things like that around Nell was back. "It's just something she said earlier. It's driving me nuts not knowing who this girl that has intimate knowledge of our team is." Nell gave me a look. "And I mean come on, Hetty brought her in for a reason, I don't care how good this girl is, no way she's better than Team Wolfrum and Ononoctium," I said making Nell smile.

"Well," Nell said typing furiously. "Considering she had a US Marshall as her body guard she must do some pretty high profile work, even if she herself isn't high profile. Have you tried cross referencing multiple agencies, especially cases worked on by more than just one agency at the same time?" Nell asked pulling the current case files to have another crack at the encrypted files.

It suddenly hit me, "Nell you're a genius!" I said very loudly startling her slightly.

"Well yeah," she said smiling at me.

I ran over to her and hugged her quickly before leaving ops and racing out of the building.

I had only gone for the one assignment and had never gone back but I had kept all of the information from that case, it had been the first time Hetty had sent me out on a mission. I had been supposed to meet the leader of the CCJTF and give her a message. But when I arrived she was out in the field. The only interaction we ever had was online. Four days later when I was set to depart back to LA an envelope had arrived; thin and addressed to Hetty. I had put it in my carry on and didn't give it a second thought until Hetty asked me if I had anything for her. After I gave it to her I forgot completely, figuring it had something to do with my position on the CCJTF and she never spoke of it again, all she told me was my skills were far more needed in LA and I hadn't complained, flying back and forth from LA to Chicago every other weekend didn't sound like fun to me.

The leader, the only thing I had ever heard was she worked for multiple agencies, she was one of the most highly skilled hackers anyone there had ever seen, she had taken down several big hackers, and her name was simply Jane. No last name, or no first name depending on who you asked, and no clarification on which it was, a first or a last.

I reached my apartment and pulled the box from under my bed and sifted through until I found the folder. Mostly it was filled with newspaper clippings but there was one official piece of paper I had saved since that day two years ago.

_'Dear Mr. Beale,  
__We here at the Cyber-Crime Joint Task Force have recently come across your file and are greatly impressed. We would formally like to extend an invitation for you to join as a part time analyst and cracker as a representative of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. We will be in touch with your superior Henrietta Lange shortly and expect to hear you response within the week.  
__Cyber-Crime Joint Task Force Lead A/C Jane'_

I read and reread the letter several times before replacing it in the box and putting it back under my bed. I crossed over to my bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror,_ 'It's nice to finally put a face to the name Beale, Eric NCIS Data Analyst'_ her voice rang in my head as her sentence now confirmed my information. 'There was no such thing as coincidence', I had heard Callen, Sam, Kensi, Deeks, and Hetty say that enough times to last a life time, but for the first time I truly understood the gravity of seven words.

Deek and Nell were both right, I looked like crap. I texted Nell that I would be in in the morning and crashed into my bed without even changing into my pajamas.


End file.
